Return of Evil Keneval

Sigh.

I got pulled over today.

It had been awhile. Kind of. There was a time when I got pulled over almost weekly. See, my first car was the first one my parents could afford--Andrea and I shared an $800 1981 Chevy Malibu station wagon. It had a souped up V-8 engine, and was school-bus yellow. Our parents were thinking there was plenty of metal between us and whatever we would run into. I don't think they realized that that boat could flat-out fly!! Every time I would take off from a stop sign, the wheels would squeal, and every time the wheels would squeal on campus at Western Kentucky, the campus police would pull us over and threaten to cite us for reckless driving. It got to be a joke after awhile, and finally I offered to let the kind officer try to take off in the car without squealing wheels. He couldn't do it either, so after that we finished our time there in peace. (That was the same car that a homeless family moved into when we were gone on spring break, and that a group of friendly hippie Mexicans finally bought to use on their job as roofers. They would cruise by all the time singing "Let It Be" out the windows for months after buying it. True story.)

I wouldn't say I was totally a rule-following driver after that, but my times being pulled over diminished to about once a year when I bought my little Corolla. One time I got pulled over for going 30 in a 25. (Have you ever tried driving 25 mph??) Once, I didn't have a seatbelt on, and couldn't find my insurance card. (This was the only ticket I've ever actually received, and I had to go to court and traffic school for it. The judge laughed at me, the traffic school videos scared me, and the fine cost me...I mended my ways then for a bit.) Once, I pulled an illegal U-turn, and tried to evade the police officer by turning down a gravel road. He was not amused.

During each of these events, my uncanny characteristic way of laughing at inappropriate times threatened to make life hard for me. I don't know if I've ever blogged this, but when I get super-nervous or upset, I laugh. It. Is. Terrible. The judge gives me a warning--I laugh. Breaking up with my high-school boyfriend--laughing. Ran into a deer--laughed. Grounded for lying to my step-dad once--laughed. You would think I was a psycho maniac if you didn't know that as soon as my nerves wear off, I start crying. Crying, people understand. Laughing, not so much.

OK, so anyway, this afternoon I got pulled over. I had no idea what I had done. I KNEW I hadn't been speeding (see the part about the video at traffic school scaring me, and besides, gas costs too much). I had my insurance on me. My children were properly seated in safety-regulation car seats.

When the officer came to the window, I asked him what I had done.

"You didn't even come close to stopping at that stop sign back there."

I laughed. Daggonit, I sure did.

The officer ran my licence, checked my insurance, talked to the kids, then smiled and gave me a warning and told me to have a nice day. Then he paused and asked, "Miss, when I told you what you did, you laughed. Was that because you thought I pulled you over for a petty reason?"

"No, Sir." I replied. "Stop signs are important. I laughed because it just figures...I was concentrating so hard on not speeding, and I forgot to stop. It's the story of my life."

Then he laughed, and walked away.